The following are remarks made by Felipe Pérez Roque, Cuban minister of foreign affairs, at the international colloquium organized by the Guayasamín Foundation in Havana to mark Fidel Castro’s 80th birthday in 2006.
Dear friends:
You have come from all over the world both to celebrate Fidel’s 80th birthday and to reaffirm your solidarity with and love for the Cuban revolution and its generous people, who have defied storms, blockades and acts of aggression without losing their optimism, without allowing their hope and joy to be dimmed, and who give you a warm welcome.
This is a special moment in our history, as we Cubans wait hopefully, calmly and steadfastly for Fidel to get better. His illness is unprecedented in the nearly five decades of his labors, because Fidel has had a constitution of iron—probably because he has not allowed himself the luxury of getting sick. He has weathered enormous tensions, succumbing only to a few colds and other minor ailments. Therefore, the past few months have been a new experience for us, and our people have faced it with maturity and self-confidence—which Fidel taught us—that will serve as a model for present and future generations of Cubans…
I was unsure about what to say this afternoon, because most of you have visited Cuba on other occasions and know of the Cuban revolution’s struggles and of the solidarity that it has always expressed. Many of you have said things here that I couldn’t say myself. Many of your words have brought lumps to our throats and to the throats of the millions of Cubans who have watched these panel discussions on television.
Therefore, rather than make a polished speech, I decided it would be better to express my feelings and say what any Cuban anywhere in Cuba could tell you about what Fidel, the revolution and our independence mean to us—they are all the same thing and are part and parcel of our present and future…
I have come up with 14 or 15 personal virtues of Fidel, which have also become virtues of the Cuban revolution and even of the Cuban people. One of Fidel’s unquestionable contributions over the past 50 years or so is that some of his personal virtues and ideas have become a part of this new nation. The Cuba that he inherited and which existed for centuries has taken a distinctive form over the last 50 years, during which a thoroughgoing, genuine, home-grown social revolution was carried out and victoriously defended on this tiny island.
The first virtue that I think Fidel contributed to the revolution, which is now the key to our people’s actions, is his concept of unity as a prerequisite for the defense and survival of a revolution, and even for the triumph of an idea. No idea—no matter how correct it is—can triumph if those who believe in it don’t defend it together.
The Cuban revolution survived and has been victorious because it created and defended unity, and its strength in the future depends on preserving that unity.
Other revolutions have been lost precisely because they lacked unity; at the moment they triumphed—as is only natural in processes of such intensity and diversity—their unity was broken, or was not achieved when it was needed. Lack of unity can destroy a revolution.
Cuba’s unity is the special contribution of Fidel’s character and ideas. This unity is not based on one person or group imposing their views on other people and groups. Some of the protagonists of this revolution are sitting here in this room. They could tell you, better than I, how the revolutionary forces united in Cuba, how a single party was created as a guarantee of the revolution’s continuity and how this was not the result of persecution of anyone who thought differently, or of negotiated power-sharing arrangements. Rather, it was the result of a process that is closely linked to Fidel and the role he has played.
What arose with the revolution is now a virtue of all Cuban revolutionaries and the people as a whole. All of us always promote unity, wherever we are. Naturally, we’ve had our differences—arguments—too, but we’ve always held fast to the key idea of unity as a prerequisite for victory. This is one of Fidel’s contributions; things were not like this in Cuba before Fidel.
Earlier wars and struggles for the Cuban people’s right to independence and sovereignty failed from a lack of unity. The first big war that Cuba fought to win its independence from the Spanish colonial power—a hard-fought war that lasted 10 years, between 1868 and 1878—failed because of a lack of unity. It had leaders and others who were no less committed and had no fewer good qualities than Fidel, but that heroic war did not conclude in victory—mainly, from a lack of unity. This was also true at other moments in the history of the Cuban revolution, until Fidel made unity an essential task, based on his lack of pretentiousness, on his ability to listen to others and on his ability to convince and persuade rather than to impose or dictate.
What made Che Guevara decide to join that epic effort after meeting Fidel that night in María Antonia’s house in Mexico? It only took one conversation for Che, with his intelligence, high educational level, ability, honesty and purity, to decide to join those who proposed what seemed impossible: to go to Cuba aboard a tiny vessel, to wage guerrilla warfare and defeat an army that was supported by the United States—an army of 80,000 men, around a thousand for each of the expeditionaries who would arrive on the Granma.
I don’t know if you have ever stood in front of the cabin cruiser Granma and wondered how it was possible for 82 people, with their weapons and supplies, to fit on that tiny vessel designed for 12 or 15 passengers. Participants recall that when the boat left the calm waters of the river in the dark at 2:00 in the morning, Che asked, “When do we get to the ship that will take us to Cuba?” He thought the Granma would take them to a larger boat. Naturally, the preparations were secret; everything was compartmentalized; and others must have shared Che’s belief that they would be going to Cuba on a larger ship.
Fifty years have passed since that voyage. Fifty years ago today, they still had two days’ sailing to go before they would reach Cuba.
Unity is the first thing I put on my list.
The second is ethics. I think it was Gilberto López y Rivas who said that Fidel and the Cuban revolution had made ethics the essence of government. Ethics is rooted in [José] Martí’s thinking, but it was Fidel’s practice over the course of 50 years that turned ethics into an absolutely essential virtue of the Cuban revolution. With Fidel’s concept of ethics as an essential component of political and revolutionary action, the idea of the end justifying the means has no place. For Fidel, the end does not justify the means. You can’t reach your objective or achieve victory at any price. That is why no prisoners have ever been tortured in Cuba since the revolution, even when they had important information that could have enabled us to prevent other crimes, to prevent other terrorist attacks.
Veteran combatants say that Fidel lectured the members of Cuban state security and others about this many times; the founders of the Rebel Army were peasants who had just learned how to read and write. No one knows of any instances of his ever having allowed, promoted or tolerated the idea of torture or assassination as a method of struggle. The Cuban revolution concentrated its activities on defeating the enemy army and its invading troops, and never resorted to retribution.
Ethics made the Cuban revolutionaries beloved, in spite of all the twisted propaganda that was launched against them. They always upheld the principle that they would never take anything from the peasants, and the hungry, barefooted members of the tiny guerrilla army always paid the farmers for the chickens or the rice and beans they asked for to keep themselves going.
One of Fidel’s contributions to the revolution was the recognition that you lose moral authority if your actions are unethical. More than 3,500 Cubans have been killed by acts of terrorism, and more than 2,000 Cubans have physical disabilities caused by bombs, the strafing of civilians by planes and ships off our coast, and other acts of terrorism, but the revolution’s actions have always been ethical.
This is what Fidel is like, and this is why the revolution has always been defended within limits that exclude any possibility of imitating the enemy’s methods—because, as I have already said, the end does not justify the means. This is one of Fidel’s contributions, as we Cubans are well aware.
You can make suggestions to Fidel about how to act, but you know ahead of time, if you propose going even a fraction of an inch outside the ethics, principles and ideas on which the revolution is based, that you will be turned down—probably vehemently.
Third on my list is Fidel’s lack of interest in receiving homage and material things. This is an essential part of him. It is not just his almost Spartan way of living or his total lack of vanity. He was a brilliant student and could have been an excellent lawyer. His first law partners—two classmates with whom he founded a law practice after they graduated from law school—said that they soon proposed that he leave the partnership and do something else, because when a rich landowner contracted them to evict some poor people from his land, Fidel wound up defending the poor people, and the partners lost the contract.
Fidel’s lack of interest in material things has become an essential quality of the Cuban revolution. For example, there’s the concept of solidarity as a duty rather than as a means of political influence. Several participants in this conference have said, “Cuba helped us without asking anything in return.”
Aid is often given in the world, but usually in exchange for favors of one kind or another. There is not even one example of this with regard to Cuba. No one can ever say that the Cuban revolution asked for anything in exchange. Cuba gave its solidarity generously and purely, and it didn’t give what was left over; rather, it shared what it had without asking for anything in return. I think that this explains why you are here and why many others like you wanted to be here.
Like everyone else, we may make mistakes; we aren’t perfect. We can and do make mistakes, but I think that we have never made the mistake of viewing solidarity as a means of furthering our own interests. That is a quality that the Cuban people have, one that is recognized by visitors. It was, perhaps, a characteristic of some sectors of our population in the past, one of those specific qualities that were part of the Cuban essence, but it was the revolution that extended this idea of sharing on a massive scale. This idea enabled Cuba to hold a Festival of Youth and Students at a time of severe crisis, during the “special period,” accommodating our visitors in people’s homes. Everyone recognizes that the idea of sharing is a quality of the people and of the revolution.
We have defects, but interest in material things is not one of them. As a people, we have defended the idea that honor and independence are worth more than material possessions. We have never compromised or bargained with our right to be free; we have refused to surrender in exchange for having the blockade lifted. We have said “No,” and I think that this is essentially a result of Fidel’s teachings.
Fidel’s fourth virtue is consistency. It is not just that if you read what Fidel said about something in 1961, you will find, to your admiration and surprise, that he has repeated those ideas many times—although not all of them, because, logically, some things change. But when I speak of consistency, I’m referring, for example, to the fact that ever since the triumph of the revolution, no Cuban diplomats have had to defend a cause in which they didn’t believe or a principle with which they didn’t agree. No Cuban diplomats have had the hard, bitter experience—that I’ve often seen other diplomats go through—of having to tell someone, “Forgive me. I don’t agree with what I’ve been ordered to say. My government ordered me to say it, but I don’t agree with it, myself.” No Cuban diplomats have been placed in that situation since the triumph of the revolution, and neither have any other representatives of our revolution and our people.
The revolution has been consistent in its principles and has never placed us in the position of having to choose between defending a principle in which we believe or obeying a government order. Consistency has been another feature of the government in Cuba, as has the idea of principles above interests. The Cuban revolution has made both of them part of the essence of government. That is Fidel’s work.
Personal example is the fifth item on my list.
In Cuba, Fidel has upheld the idea that you can’t ask the people to do anything that you yourself are not willing to do first. You may not actually do it, but those who follow you know that you are willing to do so. Starting with the first hurricane that scourged Cuba after the triumph of the revolution, Fidel always went wherever a hurricane was expected to hit—and he did this for nearly 45 years. The people have seen him there, directing things in the midst of each hurricane, risking his life alongside others, and this has become normal practice for Cubans.
All Cuban leaders are cut from this cloth; all of them understand that personal example is of key importance and is a duty, that leaders must go in front, that the only right leaders have is the right to sacrifice themselves—that is the only privilege to be obtained from holding a position or being a member of the Cuban Communist Party. You can’t be a member of our party unless your compañeros, most of whom are not members of the party, consider that you are sufficiently exemplary and have enough authority to be one. This is why our party is not a mass organization. The idea that the only right that being a member of this vanguard party or holding a position of responsibility gives you is the right to sacrifice yourself more and to accept more restrictions—that is part of what Fidel has given us. Fidel has always been in the midst of every battle, hurricane and task that requires sacrifice and effort.
Well, for obvious reasons, Fidel couldn’t go on internationalist missions. He didn’t have the same privilege Che had—Fidel had promised Che during their time in Mexico that he could leave for such a purpose one day. As has already been said here, Fidel’s internationalist mission was to transform Cuba from a tiny island lost in the sea into solid ground for all who struggle for justice and honor anywhere in the world.
Personal example, the authority that ensues from leading the way, from setting an example, from guiding with your own actions—that is one of Fidel’s contributions. You can’t stay back while asking others to move forward; if you do that, you cannot look them in the face.
I remember when Fidel said, “I see my bodyguards preparing to meet new attacks on me, preparing to evacuate me, to get me out of the way while they stay and fight. I let them. I say nothing; but they know, if an attack ever happened, that I’d stay there with them fighting. If I left them there fighting for me, how could I look them in the face?”
That quality, applied to all aspects of life, has been one of the bases of Fidel’s authority in Cuba, and it explains why the people love him so much. The people know what’s what and can’t be fooled. Cubans know about sacrifice, but also, as part of their national character, they know how to enjoy themselves. They are joyous, expansive and like to party, but they are willing to give this up—and have done so on more than one occasion. But they don’t like anyone who tries to fool them or who stays back while ordering them to move forward.
To guide these people, you have to lead them, which means being at the head of the vanguard. That is part of what Fidel has given us, a result of his teachings, and it’s not just four or five people who follow his example in this; it has become a mass phenomenon and can be seen in factories, agricultural enterprises and government ministries. Leaders must lead, set an example, show the way by their own actions.
Che, a minister in the government of which Fidel was prime minister, was an example of this.
Sixth is the truth. Telling the truth is absolutely necessary if you are to be respected.
I remember when someone suggested to Fidel that he leave out part of the truth. He didn’t agree, and the other person said, “But not telling the whole truth is not the same as telling a lie.” Fidel replied, “But not telling the whole truth is only a half-truth, and we’re talking about telling the truth.” The enemy has never been able to show that we have lied, but we have often caught them out and said, “You’re lying. Here’s the proof.” The revolution has never told a lie. That is a result of Fidel’s practice and his teaching.
The seventh virtue is sensitivity. Fidel conveyed that personal quality to the policies and actions of the revolution.
I remember when I was Fidel’s young, green assistant—in 1992 or 1993—and I was overwhelmed by the fact that it was the middle of the night and there were still at least 30 visitors who wanted to meet with him. This was not possible for all of them, and Fidel had just had a long and tiring meeting. He’d spent the whole day in one meeting after another and had not eaten anything. It was in the special period, which were very hard years, with blackouts and shortages of electricity, food and medicine. The country had to meet the challenge of an unprecedented situation in which 85 percent of our foreign trade had suddenly been cut off, which forced us to seek new markets, under pressure from a blockade that was being tightened. Fidel never rested but spent all day, every day, working…
He turned 70 in 1996. [Oswaldo] Guayasamín was here and did a portrait of his hands. While he was being painted, Fidel protested, “But, Oswaldo, those hands that you’re giving me are very thin and pale!” And Guayasamín told him, “Don’t you understand, Fidel? These aren’t hands; don’t you see? They’re doves. They are pure; they’ve never stolen anything or been stained with blood.”
One day during those hard years I told him, “You have several visitors. I suggest that you see one more this morning… And then, how about taking a rest? The only one left is Mr. Trudeau, who’s leaving first thing in the morning.” (The former prime minister of Canada and Fidel were friends.) And Fidel said, “What? Trudeau’s here, and you haven’t told me! Even if he is leaving tomorrow, I have to see him!” I said, “But there are many people, and you haven’t eaten anything today,” to which Fidel replied, “No, I have to see him.” I said, “But, look, he is not prime minister anymore.” That day, I learned my lesson once and for all. When I said, “But, really, he is not prime minister anymore. If he were still prime minister… but that is not the case,” Fidel turned around and, a fraction of an inch from my face, told me, “Never again say anything like that to me. I’m interested in people, not positions. In fact, I’m more interested in people when they don’t hold important positions.”
That sensitivity is not just the virtue of one person or of a few men and women; rather, it has permeated deep into the social fabric of the revolution.
That same sensitivity led Fidel to go into the room where Ana Fidelia Quirot, the outstanding Cuban track-and-field champion, was hovering between life and death; because of that sensitivity, he dedicated himself to saving her life. That ability to feel for others, to share in the pain and anguish of others, is one of Fidel’s virtues that has become part of the patrimony of millions in Cuba.
Fidel’s eighth virtue is his lack of pretentiousness and total absence of vanity. Fidel wears the same uniforms, many of which are quite worn out, and there are no decorations on his chest—he has never had a decoration, and only the power of his authority has led other comrades with great merits in Cuba to accept them. For example, Fidel had to persuade Raúl Castro and Juan Almeida to accept the Hero of the Republic of Cuba stars that they wear on their uniforms. They had not wanted to accept them, arguing that Fidel had not received one, but Fidel convinced them to accept. Everyone knows that once Fidel puts his arm around your shoulder and starts persuading you, it’s highly likely you will be convinced.
Fidel has made this lack of pretentiousness, this total lack of vanity, an aspiration for us.
Fidel reminded Tomás Borge—who is sitting here and who said some very moving things this morning—of Martí’s comment, “All the glory in the world can fit into a kernel of corn.” That has been his watchword, not as an empty phrase, but as something he has consistently applied throughout his life. For example, he still holds the same rank he had in the Sierra Maestra: that of commander. The people call him “Fidel,” and he feels more comfortable when they use this form of address than when someone says “Mr. Prime Minister,” “Mr. President” or “Commander.”
Fidel will become involved in profound discussions about the environment with drivers and hotel waiters. He has never said, “No, that person is not important enough to discuss things with me.” It is not in him to make such a comment. Moreover, Fidel has never believed in protocol, and the protocol followed in Cuba has been scaled down to make it more acceptable to him. These days it is more organized, but Fidel has never accepted the idea that it is against protocol for him to go to see a visitor, and he has showed up the night before a visitor was to be officially received. He has absolutely no vanity. This lack of pretentiousness as part of his everyday behavior—which millions of us Cubans hope to emulate and take as our model—is another of Fidel’s contributions to the virtues of our revolution and of our nation.
Ninth is Fidel’s belief that a revolutionary political figure is duty-bound to learn. This is seen in Fidel’s infinite curiosity, the hundreds and thousands of questions he asks about things so he can learn all about them in detail, and his eagerness to read, which has led him to keep books and a small light in his car. His keen desire to read and study reflects not only his liking for books and for certain topics, but also his duty as a revolutionary and as a political figure.
For Fidel, learning, knowing, reading and studying are not just a hobby but a duty. He is always surrounded by books. In his office, he has books on the theory of cattle grazing and fodder, because the government, representing the people, is trying to improve cattle raising and increase production, to multiply the fishes and the loaves. He has made notes in the margins of all these books: “Note: check; discuss this with so-and-so; ask the university for the results of the study.” There are books on the theory of grazing, by André Voisin; on soil improvement; the main indicators of the machine industry; biology; and chemistry. He reads them not as a hobby but as a revolutionary who believes that he has the duty to learn and know.
Fidel’s tenth virtue is how much he demands of himself—he aspires to perfection not as a matter of personal vanity but as part of his duty. Whatever Fidel does, he tries to do the best he can. Often, people don’t know everything he has done. Several times, I’ve been congratulated for a speech half or two-thirds of which Fidel had written. Of course, I couldn’t say this at the time, because that would have caused problems.
Many of us have witnessed Fidel’s desire to remain behind the scenes. He is not given credit for many of the things he does, because no one knows about it. He wants things to be done well. He is very demanding of himself, setting an example for us, doing things well because that is his commitment to the people, his way of helping the cause we’re defending. This is what we should do as revolutionaries and cadres in the revolution.
Eleventh is Fidel’s belief that defeat is not really defeat if it is not accepted—if you don’t accept defeat, you can keep on struggling to reverse it; it will only be a temporary episode and can be turned into victory. This idea of refusing to accept defeat—everyone in Cuba knows that Fidel really hates losing—is a quality that I think has extended from him to all Cuban revolutionaries, to all our people and even further afield. Other people say that it’s what characterizes Cubans. This can be seen in our athletes’ and our people’s determination to do the very best they can, never accepting defeat.
This is not exactly the example García Márquez gave in his prologue to An Encounter with Fidel, by Gianni Minà—whom I see here in the audience—but he said something to the effect that Fidel’s refusal to admit defeat was just as applicable to threading a needle as to waging a battle in Angola thousands of miles away—he’ll keep on trying over and over again until he succeeds. This is now a virtue of the revolution.
If we had not believed that victory is possible as long as you keep on fighting for it, we might not be here today, for we would not have been able to withstand the nearly 50 years of blockade, acts of aggression, acts of terrorism and attacks to which we have been subjected by the most powerful imperial power the world has ever known.
When asked how this tiny country managed to stand firm when it was alone—we had the support of the Soviet Union for 30 years, but we have been alone here for the last 15 years; many times, our friends didn’t think we would be able to survive, in light of the adversities we faced—we have to reply: “Because Fidel made it a part of the beliefs of millions in Cuba that defeat is not defeat if it is not accepted, that there’s always a possibility of reversing a temporary defeat. Just like the attack on the Moncada barracks, the initial defeat of those who returned to Cuba on the Granma was temporary rather than definitive. We’ve always gone back and begun again, starting from scratch; that’s why we’re still here.”
Twelfth is the aspiration to justice for all. Some people aspire to justice only for themselves, striving to be rich or to achieve a personal goal. Some people think of justice for their families or for others who are close to them. Some people have even aspired to justice for their nation; but for Fidel, the idea of fighting for justice has no limits. He has not only fought for justice for the Cuban people—which, in itself, would have been significant—and dedicated his life to this effort, but has also turned justice into a universal cause.
In 1959, Cuba had a population of six million. It had 6,000 doctors, 3,000 of whom left Cuba, encouraged and paid by the US government, which tried to leave us without any professionals in this sphere. The other 3,000 stayed. Yesterday, Fidel’s words, “We will train many doctors,” were recalled here. Now, we have 25 doctors for every one of those who left. Fidel said, “We will train them, because we will need them in Cuba and in the rest of the world.” Without that universal aspiration to justice, Cuba would not now have nearly 30,000 health care personnel, 21,000 of whom are doctors, working in 69 countries.
That aspiration to justice for all, beyond the borders of our country, inspires Cuban scientists to work hard, and Fidel has encouraged their projects, including one for a vaccine against malaria, a disease that does not even exist in Cuba.
The transnationals don’t put money into such research, because cosmetics and weight loss pills bring them more money than vaccines against malaria. There is not a big market for the medicines that poor people need. Cuban scientists, inspired by the idea that justice means justice for all, have worked and are working to create vaccines that will cure diseases that don’t exist in Cuba. This is another of Fidel’s contributions and teachings.
Thirteen is the power of ideas. Personal conviction—this also comes to us from José Martí, who said that even from the depths of a cave a correct idea is more powerful than an army. This is why we call our struggle a battle of ideas, for this is the key arena in which to wage the struggle.
Fidel’s fourteenth virtue is empathy, which has also become part of our people’s patrimony. In spite of all the acclaim and support he has received; even though he has been turned into a myth, especially by enemy harassment; and in spite of his immense authority that comes from his example, his experience and his knowledge; Fidel can still put himself in someone else’s shoes, imagine what someone else is thinking or feeling, and share and understand the pain, doubts and fears of others.
I remember one day when I was feeling terrible because of a mistake I had unwittingly made when passing on Fidel’s instructions, and he saw I was upset and said, “Would you like me to tell you something? I think it’s very good that this has happened. It seems to me that what you’ve done will be beneficial in the end.” At that moment, he was not the commander-in-chief of the Cuban revolution, the president of the Council of State, or even a veteran fighter who knew that a mistake in one small detail could destroy an important project. At that moment, he was a human being who understood that I wanted to find a hole to crawl into but couldn’t find one and that I was dying of shame and couldn’t do anything to fix what had happened. Fidel insisted—I’ve seen him do the same thing many times with other compañeros, too—on showing me that in the end, my mistake would be a positive thing for the final results of the work.
That is Fidel the human being—who, even though he seeks perfection in everything he does and castigates himself if he does not achieve it, nevertheless does not demand it unfairly of others and understands that others may make a mistake. Fidel offers encouragement. That is his way. In Cuba, anyone who does not practice empathy—millions of Cubans have seen Fidel do this—is unpopular, a bum, and Cubans won’t accept that person, because empathy is a quality that the people now expect.
Finally, Fidel’s fifteenth virtue is his total absence of hatred for anyone. Che said that a revolution was a great act of love. Fidel does not hate individuals, even if they have been or are his enemies. What he hates is exploitation, racial discrimination and other instances of injustice. The Cuban revolution has never acted out of hatred, except for hatred of injustice, and that hatred is not directed against those who are responsible for injustice.
The Cuban revolution is not based on hatred, even of traitors. Look at Fidel’s replies when [Ignacio] Ramonet—whom I also see here in the audience—asked him about traitors. There is not a single word of hatred in more than 700 pages of Fidel’s replies to Ramonet, in Gianni Minà or Tomás Borge’s books. When they asked him about traitors and about those who had tried to assassinate him, Fidel said very little.
Many of the terrorists who made thousands of Cuban families suffer, and are still responsible for their suffering, are still alive. The revolution is very strong, and if it were governed by hatred, it could go after those who committed murder and other acts of terrorism against our country; but the revolution has not done this. This comes from Fidel’s thinking, from the idea that we shouldn’t execute the tools of imperialism; if we did, others might appear. Rather, we must overthrow imperialism, which has created and supported them. The revolution has not gone after the murderers and torturers who escaped from Cuba on the eve of January 1, 1959, and it didn’t even execute them when they returned to our homeland as invaders. Some of them are still alive and can testify to this. There is absolutely no hatred in Fidel.
When you ask Fidel about the US presidents such as John F. Kennedy, and his brother Robert—Kennedy was president at the time of Operation Mongoose, though not the only one, because it lasted for decades and has not ended yet—you won’t find any hatred in Fidel.
I remember the day when Eunice, John and Robert’s sister, asked Fidel for a statement, around the time of the 30th anniversary of the October [Missile] Crisis. Fidel had a lot of work and didn’t want to do this, but she said, “I ask on behalf of my family, Mr. President. I know how my brothers opposed you, and I don’t agree with some of the things they did. I respect your complete absence of hatred and the fact that you never felt hatred for my brothers, who gave you reason to hate.” Fidel ended up agreeing and gave her an interview that is one of the most complete testimonies on the October [Missile] Crisis and what led up to it.
Fidel has instilled these qualities in us, qualities that come both from his own behavior and from other sources. Cuban revolutionaries aren’t motivated by hatred. More than 350,000 Cubans went to fight in southern Africa to oppose the powerful apartheid troops, who even had several nuclear weapons; in doing so, as Che wanted, they were guided by deep love. Two thousand Cubans lost their lives there. Our combatants were faced with a powerful army. That war, which ended with the preservation of Angola’s territorial integrity and with Namibia’s independence, lasted for 15 years. Angola wouldn’t exist today and it would have taken much longer to defeat apartheid if the Cuban troops had not opposed the racist army in southern Africa, thousands of miles from our homeland. This is even more meritorious when you consider that this was done alone, at a time when the Soviet Union was already collapsing and the socialist camp was falling apart.
Piero Gleijeses spoke here and wrote a book about this subject. When that war ended, our combatants came back home, and what Amílcar Cabral had said was borne out: that the Cubans would return home from Africa taking only the bones of their dead. We don’t own the mines, the oil wells, the land or the forests there. We didn’t go there looking for diamonds or oil; we went to fight for the idea of justice, a quality that is part of the patrimony Fidel has given our people. Our troops were inspired by altruism, not hatred. That is the way it was in the guerrilla struggle in the Sierra Maestra, where the enemy’s wounded were cared for first, and at the Bay of Pigs. That is the way it has always been, including in Angola.
This complete absence of hatred of individuals, combined with a hatred of injustice, imperialism and exclusion, is another of Fidel’s qualities, and it explains his total absence of rancor. If you ask him about those who betrayed and attacked him, he won’t express any hatred. I think this is another lesson we have received from Fidel.
As I mentioned, this is not supposed to be an essay or a rigorous academic work. If it has one virtue, it is its total honesty.
Like any other Cuban, I wouldn’t say these words here if I didn’t believe in them deeply, because Fidel has also taught us to reject vanity and flattery. Nothing annoys Fidel more than flattery.
These words also reflect a deep affection, which is the main feeling our people have for Fidel, seeing him as their father, their older brother, a member of their family, apart from his responsibilities and his merits.
The enemies of the Cuban revolution—the enemies of justice, truth and honor—are counting the minutes, waiting and hoping for Fidel to die, not understanding that Fidel is not just a man, that Fidel is his people and, when it comes down to it, that Fidel is every man and woman in the world who is willing to fight and does fight to make the world a better place.
Our enemies dream on, but they are mistaken when they think that Fidel’s absence will mean the absence of his ideas, and that the convictions and principles that Fidel has sown on a mass scale among his people and in the world will disappear. Fidel wants his ideas to remain. Convalescing, recovering and returning to the battle, he will once more defeat those enemies who are steeped in hatred and mediocrity.
Thank you all for coming here. Thank you for having allowed us to celebrate Fidel’s birthday in this way. Fidel would not have allowed us Cubans to do so if it weren’t for you...
I thank you and promise that we will keep on struggling to promote the ideas and dreams to which Fidel has dedicated his life. We will do this with him leading our people again and, when the time comes that he and the others of his generation are no longer with us, I am sure that our people will have made those ideas and principles their own forever.
This is our greatest gift to Fidel: to always defend and struggle to promote those ideas.
Thank you.
Felipe Pérez Roque
November 30, 2006